


Gestures Matter

by orphan_account



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Some language I guess?, The play but Michael gets squipped instead of christine, and it's mostly just my boys being akward, but there's sort of a plot, just self indulgent boyf riends pretty much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 18:35:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12195402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The play but Michael gets squipped instead of Christine





	Gestures Matter

**Author's Note:**

> Before we dive into this  
> 1\. Don't be fooled by the fact that it says two chapters. This is just a glorified one shot with an epilogue  
> 2\. Please please PLEASE tell me if you spot a grammar/spelling error. I won't be offended at all. In fact, I'll be glad you spotted it.  
> 3\. Comments are my lifeblood  
> That's it. Thanks!

"Magic the gathering card he gave me for a birthday no one else remembered. Burn it."

Michael flicked on the lighter in his hand and set it to the corner of the card, watching the flames curl up and consume the only gift he'd gotten when he turned 13. He watched the rest of the card disintegrate into ashes, and then reached over to an ever shrinking pile of miscellaneous scraps and mementos, plucking out a little white ticket stub.

"Our first concert. Weird Al. Super burn it" The lighter clicked again, taking with it memories of laughing until his stomach hurt and eating candied peanuts and dancing until they were both red in the face. The stub went up in flames quickly, and he was careful to drop it quickly into the metal trash can at his feet. He reached for the pile again, grabbing a little ugly stuffed animal, so torn up you could barely tell that it had once been a bear.

"Goodbye Mr. Stuffles." He reached for his lighter, but quickly dropped it when a figure came from around the corner.

"Mr. Heere, what are you doing here?" said Michael, hiding his joint. Mr Heere looked... serious for once. You know, as serious as someone can look wearing a pair of thermal underwear.

"We need to talk about Jeremy."

The bitterness in Michael's gut squirmed again, and his eyes flicked to the pile of ashes that were once memories.

"Sorry, Jeremy and I aren't friends anymore." He said dejectedly. _And that's putting it mildly._ Mr Heere looked unfazed.

"Do you love him?"

_Wait, what?_

Michael took that opportunity to go into a coughing fit, covering his mouth (and his increasing blush) with his fist.

 _"What?"_ He choked out finally, his face uncomfortably hot. _Oh my god, he's caught on. Shit. Whatdoido._

"Listen, we both know he can be a little shit sometimes, but that's no reason to sit around burning incense-" he gestured to Michael's joint, (Michael couldn't tell if he was joking or not), "- while my son turns himself into a monster."

_Jesus, is he going to ask me what my intentions are with his son? What do I even say to that?_

"Yeahh, I'm gonna-" he backed up towards the door, pointing towards it. _Nope nope nope nope-_

Jeremy's dad moved to block Michael's way. It was literally the fastest he had ever seen him move. Suddenly, Michael was hyperaware that he was being stared down by a strange, angry looking man in thermal underwear. Michael gulped. Mr Heere didn't budge. His friend's dad opened his mouth.  
  
"I... I need your help." Ok, that wasn't what Michael was expecting. Mr Heere's shoulders slumped a little, which made him certainly less aggressive looking.

"I don't really have the tools to help him with what he's going through right now, but I know you do." Michael looked at him, confused. _Does he know about my feelings for Jeremy or not?_

"Where is this conversation going..."

"Jeremy needs help right now. I want you to be there for him."

"I'm not what he wants."

"But you're just what he needs." Michael rolled his eyes.

"Listen, I'm sure that you're trying to set me up with your son with the best interests at heart, but really, no thanks." He made for the door again, only to have Mr. Heere rest a heavy hand on his shoulder. _Uhhhhh..._

"Listen. When you love somebody... you have to stick with them. Put on your metaphorical big boy pants." Mr. Heere looked sternly down at Michael.

"And your literal big boy pants."

"What?"

Michael took a deep breath. "If you want me to just... forget everything Jeremy's done to me lately and rush to his side, you'll need to do something for me. There's a Khol's down the street. I don't care what kind- jeans, khaki, leather- you're not leaving that store until you buy a pair." Mr Heere chuckled.

"You drive a hard bargain, son." He reached out his hand to shake on it. Michael obliged. What now? He supposed that going to see Jeremy in the play was as good a starting point as any. He tried not to think about how Jeremy might shoot him down again like he did at the Halloween party. Michael wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle that.

____________________

_Wow, this is really good for a school play._

Michael sat in the back row of the theater, popping open a bottle of Mountain Dew and taking a sip. Sure, the apocalypse/Shakespeare vibe of the whole thing was weird, but the costumes were cool, and everyone... well, everyone was preforming much better then Michael thought they had the capacity to do.

"I warn thee, gentle mortal, for it is time to FEED again!" Brooke exclaimed onstage, her demeanor turning frightening and alien. She had a weird, wild look in her eyes as she continued to deliver her lines. She tossed her blond curls menacingly and stood about a foot taller than she usually did, looking uncharacteristically confident.

 _What's up with that?_ Michael wondered, but before he could ponder on it his phone gave a loud buzz from his pocket. The people around him shot him dirty looks. He winced, embarrassed, and was about to turn it off when he spotted the caller ID.

Jeremy was calling him.

 _Jeremy_ was calling _him_.

Wait, Jeremy was calling him? Wasn't he supposed to go on in a few minutes? Michael was so caught up in starring at the glowing letters on his phone screen that he nearly forgot to answer. He quickly swiped the answer button and held the phone up to his ear.

"Hello?... Uh, Jeremy?" Weird. All that was on the other line was... faint shouting. It was obviously Jeremy yelling, but Michael couldn't pick up any other voices. It was like Jeremy was shouting to himself. Wait. Oh no.

Michael snatched up the Mountain Dew red, shoved it into his hoodie pocket, and sprung out of his seat, racing to the backstage door. He flung it open and let it slam behind him. It took him a good thirty seconds to process the scene.

Jeremy was squirming in the middle of the room, frantically yelling "call Michael" into his cell phone. He seemed to be struggling to hold the device, his own hands kept dropping it like it was red hot and then grabbing for it again. It was like he wasn't even in control of his own body. _But he isn't,_ Michael realized. _It's the Squip._

Michael could see that Jeremy was loosing the fight. He convulsed, loosing his grip on the phone, and it hit the floor with a crack. The screen went dark. Jeremy snatched it up, clicking the home button a few times to no avail. It was broken. Jeremy snapped his head back up, looking around in terror for an invisible enemy that Michael knew was there but couldn't see- and spotting Michael. He tried to suppress his grin as his friends face lit up at the sight of him.

"Michael makes an entrance!" He crowed, holding up the Mountain Dew triumphantly.

Jeremy raced over to him, grabbing both his shoulders with his hands. He still looked stupidly happy.

"Michael!" He said breathlessly. "You came to see the play!" He looked deliriously giddy at the fact, and Michael smiled even wider.

"Yeah, of course. I even brought my own refreshments." He said coyly, holding the Mountain Dew up by the cap.

"Is that?"

"Yep. Mountain Dew red. I told you I did my research."

"That's amazing!" Jeremy said, his eyes glinting. He reached out an arm, his fingers grabbing for the bottle. "Give it to me."

And too late, Michael remembered that he was angry at Jeremy. Sure he was being nice to him now, but was it only because he needed him? If he didn't have a bottle of Mountain Dew red in his hands right now, would Jeremy even be paying attention to him? Michael slowly lowered the bottle. His smile fell.

"Ok. Wait. No."

"But I need it!" Jeremy whined. Michael took a step back, frowning.

"And I need an apology. I think that's in order. I mean, you treat me like I don't exist for months, and then you blow me off when I try to help you."

Jeremy pursed his lips. "Fine. I'm-" his mouth moved, but no sound came out. Jeremy looked surprised, raising his hand to his neck. _Ok, this isn't funny anymore. He's just being a dick._

"I'm sarrrrr- surrrrrr" Jeremy scrunched up his face in concentration. Michael glared at him, and everything from the past few months- being treated like he was invisible, getting flaked on at the mall, _getting blown off at the party-_ it all came rushing back. He clenched his fists.

"Seriously? Seriously. Is it that hard to say sorry?" Michael spat, his grip tightening on the Mountain Dew. Jeremy rolled his eyes.

"Yes! C'mon man, this is important!"

"Well, this is important to me!"

"It's a WORD!"

"It's a GESTURE! Gestures MATTER!"

"I'll show YOU a gesture!" Jeremy flipped him off. And suddenly, Jeremy took a swing at him. Like, he was actually, physically trying to hit him. Michael bumped his hand aside in surprise, and narrowed his eyes. _Fine, so this is how it is?_

"This is _so you,"_ snarled Jeremy, spitting out his words like venom. They hurt just like it too. "You love to feel superior, just because you listen to music on _vinyl_ and eat _eel_ in your sushi and don't CARE about being POPULAR." Jeremy lunged for Michael again, and Michael side stepped it.

"Of course I care! I just know it's not going to happen!" It hurt to say it, even though it was true. He dodged another blow.

Jeremy looked confused, but still angry. _Confangry? Angfused? Is there a word for that?_

"So you resent me because I wouldn't give up like you did?"

Punch. Miss

"I don't resent you!" Michael said desperately, his voice cracking. "God no. I'm just jealous you try!"

Kick. Dodge.

"Well I'm jealous you don't!"

_"Then why are you hitting me?"_

_"I'm not trying to!"_

" _Well, don't try harder!"_

"ITS-NOT-ME-ITS-MY-SQUIP!"

Jeremy tackled Michael, bringing the both of them down. Michael pinned his friend's arms to his side, trying to avoid his legs that were kicking out at him.

"It's taking over my body! I need your help! IM SORRY" Jeremy stopped struggling, gasping out the words.

And that's all Michael needed to hear. He pinned Jeremy down, both hands on his chest, grappling between his struggling friend and the twist-off Mountain Dew cap. He ended up having to sit on Jeremy's legs to get him to _just sit still, damnit._ He almost spilled the Mountain Dew twice twisting around to try to get him to drink it. They were chest to chest now, legs pressed against legs, face less than a foot from face, and suddenly Michael was hyperaware of Jeremy's eyes and his hair and his freckles and the whole rest of his face. It was absolutely the worst time for Jake to walk in.

He hobbled in on crutches, just coming off the stage from act one, and gave the both of them a weird look. Jeremy went beet red. Michael sighed. He didn't have time to explain this. Let Jake think what he wanted to think.

"Jake," Michael said breathlessly, "this is gonna sound weird, but if I hold Jeremy down, can you make him drink this Mountain Dew red?" He tossed Jake the bottle, freeing up his right hand to restrain Jeremy. Jake snatched the bottle out of the air and examined it. Something clicked in his eyes, and he grinned.

"That's not weird at all." He started to walk towards them, and then he froze. His crutches clattered to the ground. And looking Michael in the eyes, he poured the Mountain Dew right out onto the floor with a horrible smile on his face. Jeremy stopped flailing around, and they both froze in their awkward much-too-close position, staring with fearful eyes at Jake.

Jake chuckled evilly and looked down at his legs. "Woah. Nice."

"It... healed your legs?" Jeremy said, his voice shaky.

"No," commented Jake offhandedly. His smile got even wider. "I just can't feel the pain. It's awesome." Michael peered in horror at Jake's legs, bent in odd angles. He felt like throwing up. He hauled Jeremy to his feet, and they stood there together, staring at the puddle of Mountain Dew that was slowly pooling around Jake's feet.

And then, with the villainous sense of terrible, inconvenient timing that all evildoers seem to possess, Brooke and Chloe emerged. They moved in a kind of creepy tandem, obviously squipped, their twitching movements mirrored perfectly by each other. _Like the velociraptors in Jurassic Park_ , Michael thought. They made a beeline for Jeremy, circling him like hungry wolves.

Brooke leaned down to Jeremy, reaching out with talon like fingernails to brush his arm.

"Just so you know, I'm not mad you broke my heart and slept with my best friend," she crooned into Jeremy's ear. Michael's stomach turned over, and he felt his hands tense up, even though he wasn't consciously clenching them. Chloe slunk up to Jeremy's other side, grabbing his hand in her highly manicured one. Jeremy looked frozen with fear.

"And I'm not mad that you dated my best friend and wouldn't sleep with me." She batted her eyelashes. Michael stepped forward. He wasn't sure what he was about to do (punch her? Punch both of them?) but before he could, Brooke yanked away from Jeremy and spun around to face Chloe, her eyes wide with astonishment.

"Wait, he didn't sleep with you?"

"No."

"He didn't sleep with _me_!"

" _No_!" The two girls grabbed each other's hands and made that high pitched squee noise that girls do when they're excited. While they were shooting apologies back and forth and giggling, Michael slipped back over to Jeremy, trying to see a way past the two girls and to what's left of the Mountain Dew.

"Jeremy, the bottle- there's a few drops left." He pointed to the bottle and then both squinted at the little bit of (probably super backwashy) Mountain Dew residue left in the container.

"Wait- no- Michael-." Jeremy began, placing a cautious hand on his shoulder.

"Don't worry, I got this. Apocalypse of the Damned, level nine, the cafetorium- remember?"

Michael didn't remember much of what happened during his recon mission, but from what Jeremy told him afterward it was an awesome feat of video game stealth that he really wouldn't have expected from himself. Maybe it was the adrenaline, maybe it was the fact that Jeremy was paying attention to him again, or maybe it was just some kind of secret talent that Michael had possessed all along, but somehow he made it passed the squipped cast and to the cherry red bottle of Mountain Dew. He snatched up the can triumphantly, careful to not let a single drop spill out-

-and that was when he felt a hand grab onto his shoulder. He jerked around to see Jake, but before he could shove him away two more sets of hands grabbed onto him, shoving him backwards. At the last second, he tossed the bottle of Mountain Dew red to Jeremy, who caught it, fumbling clumsily with it and spilling at least half. Jake, with his newfound strength, slung Michael into a stack of cardboard boxes which came crashing down around him. He could feel something being pressed to his lips. His head erupted with pain.

 _Up up down down left right A_ said a voice in the back of his head, and Jeremy's shouts and the noise of the play going on onstage were drowned out instantly.

 _Jeremy_.

The zombies parted, creating a clear bath between him and his his friend. Not exactly knowing exactly what he was doing, he started walking over towards Jeremy, except it felt more like floating.

"Michael?" Jeremy said, looking at him hesitantly. Michael wanted to hear him say his name again and again forever.

"Hey, Jere." He stepped closer to Jeremy, a smile spilling across his face. Jeremy stepped back.

"That's not Michael."

"What are you talking about, Jere? Wow, I haven't seen you in ages, dude. You look good. Really good." Michael felt words that weren't his come out of his mouth, speaking with a confidence that he'd never had.

A little voice in the back of Michael's head said something, but he was too preoccupied to listen. Michael felt like he was walking on air. He stepped forward again, and this time Jeremy didn't step back. They were almost nose to nose. Something in Michael's chest soared.

"Uhhh, what are you-" Jeremy began, but Michael felt the words coming up again, interrupting him.

"We should hang out more. A lot more. Do you wanna se a movie or something? Ready player one is playing Saturday at the Edwards. Remember when we read the book together?"

Jeremy opened his mouth, then closed it again, glancing back and forth between Michael and over Michael's shoulder at something only he could see. Jeremy was quiet for a minute, apparently listening.

"He... he'll really do whatever I want?" Jeremy said out loud to the empty space behind him.

 _Yes_! echoed the voice and Michael's thoughts.

"Good." Jeremy leaned in, resting a hand on Michael's chest. He lifted up something- the Mountain Dew red? and held it in front of Michael.

"Drink this." Jeremy whispered, pressing the bottle into his lips. And Michael drank.

The pain in Michael's temples erupted. Jeremy screamed, and Michael grabbed his head between his hands in pain, and both of them collapsed to the floor as darkness swallowed them up.       

**Author's Note:**

> Don't freak out, this is gonna have an ending! I wrote this half instead of sleeping, so I didn't have time to write the epilogue, butt I promise everything works out just fine. The epilogue should come in the next few days.
> 
> Also: I really like comments! Like, a lot! They encourage me to write faster too...


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